


Sanguinary

by Jimin



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: I can't believe I'm writing this, M/M, Necrophilia, bangtan members are mentioned just slightly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimin/pseuds/Jimin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are like flowers, and <em>he</em> likes flowers, so Seokjin picks the flowers for <em>him</em>. But Seokjin likes the flowers too, so he uses them before <em>he</em> comes home and claims them as his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tasted like ice-cream

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING, this is disturbing, please keep that in mind. I am not mentally ill.  
> \+ this was inspired by that poem i can't seem to find, but basically it's about how we pick beautiful flowers because they are pretty, but at the same time know they'll die if we do. and then there was something about how that's the same thing we do to people. idk i'll link it to here if i manage to find it. if i don't then sorry.

They were like flowers to him. Beautiful roses that bloomed mid-summer. Their luxurious petals felt like silk under his fingers. Their fresh earthy scent lured him in, hypnotized him, every time he’d inhale it he would feel like he was floating. They were like a drug to him, a drug he couldn’t get rid of.

“Hush now,” he whispered against the other one’s ear. His fingers pressed tighter around the boy’s neck, squeezing it harder than he thought he could. The boy below him squirmed one last time.  “You’re going to be beautiful.” His voice trailed off, mind too preoccupied with the smell and the feeling of the boy below him dying. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried. The words could never describe the feeling of life leaving a body. Words were too small to even try.

“You are so beautiful.” It was all for a cause. A cause too great for a plain man to understand. They were beautiful, just like roses, and Seokjin liked keeping roses in his home.

He was scared, scared that when his lover comes home he won’t understand, but he hoped that the other one at least tries. He was doing this for him. He was doing this so the other one could see just how much Seokjin cared about him.

His fingers were still tightly wrapped around the boy’s neck. His grip hard as iron. He was like iron.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against the dead boy’s cheek, slowly dragging his fingers over the still warm flesh. “He will like you.” He placed a kiss upon the boy’s lips. They were soft, like foam bubbles. He could still taste the ice-cream they ate before, the boy was so clueless, so naïve. But next to the strawberry ice-cream there was a hint of something else. Something that Seokjin couldn’t recognize. It may have been the boy itself.

Seokjin dragged his lips against the pale flesh of the boy’s neck. It still felt as smooth as it was when he dragged his fingers against it earlier. The boy had giggled then, but now he remained silent. His voice long lost in the bottom of his throat.

Seokjin’s hands made quite a mark on the boy’s neck; he’ll have to cover it with makeup. He wouldn’t like it if the flowers have withered. He would yell at Seokjin, tell him he’s useless and Seokjin couldn’t allow that. He had to make him happy. He had to do whatever he needed to preserve the flowers. Keep them in their original state. He had to, or _he_ wouldn’t love him as much. 


	2. Smelt like old vine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: necrophilia in this one

The bullet passed right through his heart. Blood splashed all around them, on Seokjin’s lips.

He was tasty, no doubt in that. His blood, still warm, tasted like copper and dipped into cotton candy that has melted on the hot summery day. He was so delicious.

The gun was a quick solution, but it made a mess and the flower couldn’t be messy. He wouldn’t like it if it was messy. Seokjin would have to clean it before he can put it in the vase.

This boy, unlike the first one, had tanned skin; his lips were plum, eyes small. Seokjin imagined him help old ladies cross the street, he imagined him in the park with his hand wrapped around a brightly smiling girl whose hair flew through the cold breeze.

He could see the smile on his lips, even now. The bright smile that made Seokjin wonder if this flower needed to grow a little longer. But he couldn’t let it, the flower has to be groomed and put in the vase, he will like it because of the smile, he must.

His fingers trailed down the boy’s side, popping the buttons of his shirt. It was stained with a dark red mark just over the middle of the chest.

The cloth fell from his shoulders and Seokjin felt his breath hitch in his throat. The boy was beautiful, he shouldn’t have ruined him. He shouldn’t have. What if _he_ wishes to take this boy? He needs to kill them without damaging the body. He has to find a way to preserve the body.  

His fingers dipped into the hole on the boy’s chest. Wet liquid wrapping itself around the digits as he pushed them deeper. It was almost erotic.

Seokjin couldn’t help it. He wanted to fight it, stop himself from going too far; he might ruin the body.  But the desire to claim the boy was stronger. And sooner than he could have imagined he was buried to the base in the boy. The velvet liquid around him, warm and soft, smelling like old vine that his grandfather would drink on the porch after a hit day.

It almost felt like he was floating. The heat around him, the tightness, it was all like nothing ever before.

But he knew; he knew he couldn’t finish this. He wasn’t allowed to. Only _he_ can claim the roses, only _he_ can use them. So he pulls back, curls up against the wall, eyes scanning over the mess on his floor.

It’s going to stain, badly if he doesn’t move the body. But Seokjin can’t allow himself to touch him, not yet. He can still feel his soft skin under his fingers. So smooth and warm.

He wrapped his fingers around himself. _He_ will be pleased to know he held back. 


	3. One of my roses

The third one fought. The boy was strong, Jimin his name was. He screamed and trashed his hands around. His eyes were wide, full of tears that refused to fall.

He was so strong.

“Please, please,” he begged on his knees. “I’ll do whatever you want me to, just don’t kill me.” his voice trembled, he was so frightened.

It wasn’t supposed to happen; he was going to kill him. He had him pinned on the bed, his hands on the other one’s neck, tightly pressing. But he couldn’t. Not when Jimin smiled and dragged his fingertips along Seokjin’s thighs, so lovingly.

“Please.” He trembled so hard beneath Seokjin, his whole body shaking at the mere touch of the elder. “Please, I’ll do anything,” he managed to mumble through his sobs.

“Flowers,” Seokjin whispered; the grip on Jimin’s throat loosening. “Bring me flowers.” His eyes lost focus, he was on the ground, laughing.

Jimin froze; he didn’t know what to do. What flowers? He didn’t understand anything. “F-flowers?” his voice quivered as he tried to lift himself up. “Y-you want f-flowers?”

Seokjin rolled onto his side, his eyes glassy. “Yes, flowers,” he repeated and pointed his finger at Jimin. “Flowers like you.”

It felt like someone had run their ice cold fingers down Jimin’s spine. There was something so incredibly wrong with this image. Seokjin on the ground, lips spread into a faint smile, eyes glassy like an addicts. He wasn’t well, he was sick. And he needed _flowers?_

“I am a flower?” There was no place in his mind for games, he wanted to leave, leave right now, but Seokjin looked so fragile. He looked like he could die any moment. His skin dark yellow, bones sticking out or the stretched skin, his fingers stained and fingernails cut too deep. He looked more than sick, he looked dead.

“You’re a pretty flower.” Seokjin’s voice was weak, not like the one that lure Jimin in when he pressed himself against Jimin’s back in the poorly lit club. Back there he was tall and big and Jimin was intimidated.

But now, when he tried to lift himself up from the floor, his fingers barely even curling out to press against the floor properly, he looked smaller than a mouse.

“Come,” he whispered once he managed to push himself up to his feet. A small smile lingered on the edges of his lips. “Come, I’ll show you the flowers.”

_The flowers_ were lived up in glass cases. They were all dead. Thirteen of them, all male, all pretty.

“Flowers,” Seokjin laughs and drops to the floor like a petal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinmin isn't really my otp but i think it would fit well for this. or at least i hope it will.


	4. Cold as ice

The fourth – no, third, he missed one. Jimin, why? – falls under his palms oh so easily. Jimin is lying next to the boy, sheets are tangled between their bodies, Jimin is sweaty, and the other boy is too.

He holds the needle firmly between his fingers as he climbs onto the boy’s hips. He is small, so small. _He’ll_ like this one. The needle that he holds between his fingers is lowered down; the boy’s hand twitches as the needle goes in deeper.

It takes him quickly, and quietly. Whatever it is that was inside the needle, it was powerful. But Seokjin can see it now. The thin layer of sweat on their bodies, the sheets wrapped around their naked bodies, the clothes thrown everywhere; Jimin did this for him.

“Jin,” Jimin mutters, his eyes fluttering open as he tries to adjust to the faint light. “Why are you awake?” his voice is sweet, childish and high-pitched and laced with sleep, but sweet.

“Hush,” Seokjin murmurs, fingers ghosting over Jimin’s lips. “Sleep now, sleep.” He tries not to cry. He tries his best not to give Jimin a chance to see him at his most vulnerable. “Sleep,” he repeats and lies down next to Jimin, his body fitting into space between the flower, the dead boy, and Jimin, the rose.

Jimin’s fingers brush away the hair from Seokjin’s forehead. His fingers dance over his hollow cheeks and his dark circles. “You’re getting sick, Jin.” He whispers and pulls the elder closer, their chests touch, and he’s so close, so close that he could feel the elder’s heart beating frantically against his ribcage. But Seokjin is cold. There is no head radiating from him, there’s nothing. “You need to let me take care of you.” His thumb brushed along Seokjin’s bottom lip before he’s leaning in and taking them into his.

He feels the scent of copper in his mouth. Seokjin liked to chew on wrenches and magnets. The lips between his are soft, cold as ice and welcome.

“Rose,” Seokjin mutters against Jimin’s lips, his thought running in various directions. “Have me,” he sounds so desperate, “please.”

Jimin pulls him in, presses himself against Seokjin’s small frame. He feels every bone, feels each and every rib, his hip bones are poking his stomach.

“Jin,” he whispers, voice softly echoing against Seokjin’s lips. “You’re so pretty.”

And Seokjin is lost. Jimin’s hand crawls between them, his small, warm fingers wrap around Seokjin’s length and he’s lost. There is nothing important to him now than to pull Jimin closer, have his mouth on his skin, and have his scent in his nostrils and his taste on his tongue.

Jimin is skilled, he flicks his wrist, tugs and pulls and Seokjin’s member. He feels the elder shiver under his lips, feels how much he needed this; feels how long he needed this.

 “Jin,” he breathes into the elder’s mouth, lips crazing over his bottom lip. “Moan for me.”

There is a faint blush spreading over Seokjin’s cheeks when he grinds himself against Jimin and comes with a loud, _‘Jimin’_ all over the younger’s hand and the sheets and themselves. But Jimin doesn’t mind, not when Seokjin’s kissing him and when he’s asleep the moment their lips lose contact.

The next morning Seokjin remembers, and he’s scared that _he_ ’ll punish him for enjoying _his_ flowers. 


	5. "Jimin"

Everything has become so tiring for Seokjin. His legs are too heavy to throw them off the side of the bed and stand up. His eyelids are too heavy for him to open his eyes. His skin, it tugs on his muscles so hard he can feel them snap underneath. Everything is so tiring.

"Jin," Jimin would whisper every morning, without a fail. Seokjin could feel Jimin's lips on his own, but his body didn't want to move, couldn't move.

Jimin moved away. "Sorry."

He became so consequential in Seokjin's life the elder couldn't even think what would happen to him if Jimin left. The boy was everywhere. His smell lingered on Seokjin's bed sheets, on Seokjin's skin. Everything Seokjin could think was Jimin, only Jimin. He thought about Jimin so often he sometimes forgot his place.

"Flowers," Seokjin whispered, voice hoarse and thick with fatigue. "Need more-" his throat ached. There was blood, he could taste it.

Jimin jumped off the bed, rushed to the bathroom (Seokjin could hear him tap his foot while he filled the glass with water).

The way he pressed his fingers into Seokjin's neck, lifting it up for the elder to drink, made Seokjin tremble. He never felt anything like this. He never felt anyone caring so much about him. He doesn't remember if he ever looked at him with the eyes Jimin did. Those worried, small, rounded eyes that Seokjin could lose himself in. Those small orbs of pure heaven painted in the most beautiful shade of dark chocolate dipped in freshly made coffee. (Sometimes Seokjin hated the way the corners would crease when Jimin smiled. It was too cute. And Seokjin didn't know how to smile like that.)

If anyone ever before told Seokjin that he'd be so grateful to a sip of cold water, he wouldn't believe them. It slipped down his raspy throat like silk robe down Jimin's soft skin on the late Saturday nights. He could feel it cling to the inside of his throat, and he welcomed it.

Jimin half-smiled. "Better?" His fingers stroked the nape of Seokjin's neck, small hairs there sprouting out.

He was so weak, he couldn't think. There was no other explanation for what he did. He couldn't find anything else to explain this to  _him_ , and he will have to explain. 

Fingers reaching up for Jimin's on his neck. Pushing his body up, tangling his other hand into Jimin's hair, Seokjin pulled Jimin down and crashed their lips together.

"Jimin," Seokjin breathed against the boy's lips. They were so soft, puffy, perfect. He'll never get enough of them. "Jimin," he repeated, pulling the boy closer in.

Their bodies clashed, Seokjin's bony fingers tangled so far up into Jimin's hair he couldn't pull them out.

"Jimin." Something about the way the younger boy felt against him made Seokjin forget about everything. He wanted to forget, he needed to forget about the flowers waiting in the basement.

"Jimin." He couldn't stop himself from repeating it. It was so soothing; knowing Jimin is there, knowing that he cared. "Jimin." Seokjin wanted him so bad. Wanted to feel his skin on his own, beneath his fingertips. 

The boy smiled against Seokjin's lips. His fingers curling into the hem of Seokjin's shirt. Seokjin could feel him hesitate, so he pushed himself further in, closing the whatever little place there was between them up.

"Jimin," he was desperate now.

But the younger didn't budge. "Eat for me." He begged instead. His words left a strong burning mark on Seokjin's cheek. "Please."

This was so wrong. Seokjin didn't want this.   
"I'll bring flowers if you eat," Jimin pulled away, palms spread on each of Seokjin's cheeks. His eyes bored holed in Seokjin's unfocused ones. "Please, I don't want you to die."

Eyes wide and lips spred apart in shock, Seokjin could only stare at Jimin. Hope that this isn't a dream.

"Jimin?" Seokjin asked again, his eyes finally finding the younger boy's ones. "Jimin."

Jimin leaned in, pressed his lips into Seokjin's forehead and pulled the fragile boy against his chest.

And then something broke.  _He_ 's here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't forgotten about this one yet. i felt really weird writing this, idk why i just felt so out of the place and it's weird because i remember i enjoyed it to so much before, but now everything i write feels so odd. i really don't like the feeling tho.


End file.
